rover

photo by shf

I untangle the line that holds the leash I’ve hooked on myself,

uncurling the coated cording from the tree trunk

made messy by the circles I’ve traveled,

the mad dashes I’ve made toward things

that rise in my vision to tear at them like my dogs go after

lizards or chipmunks, and I have to shout “LEAVE IT!”

and they look back at me like I have no say in the matter —

“WE’RE DOGS!” they whimper. “THAT’S WHAT WE DO!”

and I divine their message, tail between my legs,

as my growl revs for the next rustle in the weeds,

just beyond the tangled line, the hooked leash making me STAY,

tethering the rover that I am.